


King and Queen of Promise

by faenova



Category: AR∀GO ロンドン市警特殊犯罪捜査官 | Arago
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Summer King!Arago, Winter Queen!Seth, gratuitous amounts of faefolk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faenova/pseuds/faenova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth is out of Lia Fáil, Arago is no longer preoccupied with searching for a way to get him out, and both of them are a little bit lost on what they're supposed to do now.</p><p>Meanwhile, the Fae Realm is left unsettled after the events of gogmagog. The fae are trying to find someone worthy to take the thrones that have been empty for hundreds of years, before someone who isn't takes them by force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Into your eyes  
> Hopeless and taken  
> We stole our new lives  
> Through blood and name  
> In defense of our dreams  
> ~30 Seconds to Mars

Arago steeled himself. All he could do was wait and hope that Lia Fáil could be fooled. He stared at the floating cube and listened to its very quiet hum. It was the only noise in the clearing, giving an air of death and eeriness, unusual even for winter in the forest. Behind him, he heard his companions break the silence by shuffling around, kicking at snow and dead branches. Behalf

“Do you think it worked?” Rio asked.

“Well. We don’t know if this is supposed to be an instant thing or not,” Oz muttered.

There was a soft “oh” which he assumed to be Coco. The anxious shuffling continued. Arago ignored it.

It seemed like an eternity before the stone warped and swirled, and in an instant it spat out an unconscious Seth, looking just the same as the day he went in – beaten, bruised, and covered in blood. It flowed freely from the stump that used to be his left hand and the side of his head. Arago had forgotten about those injuries. Or maybe he didn’t even notice them when Seth got him out of Lia Fáil. It didn’t matter now.

Before Coco could exclaim that it had worked, Arago had ripped off his gloves and grabbed the bleeding arm. He felt the energy rushing from his fingertips to Seth’s wounds. Seth made a small noise of discomfort but otherwise didn’t wake up. His flesh knit itself back together over the exposed bone and muscle, leaving a perfect and unscarred stump beneath the bloody mess. Arago tried to wipe away the blood but then swore when he realized he had left a faint pink burn on the brand new skin. It would go away soon, it wasn’t bad.

But his hand was still gone. He still couldn’t regrow other people’s lost limbs, apparently. He knew he couldn’t. He tried with Oz. Arago put his gloves back on and brushed Seth’s hair away to reveal a missing ear as well. Would that affect his hearing? He didn’t know.

“Hey,” Rio interrupted Arago’s thoughts. “Is he supposed to still be asleep?”

“I was pretty disoriented when I woke up inside of Lia Fáil,” Arago replied. “You guys saw me _after_ Seth dragged me out of the dream. Plus, I wasn’t injured.”

Oz knelt next to the unconscious boy. “He’s patched up now. But his mind might still be trapped in the dream world.”

Arago nodded. Oz had already told him this. They’d had extensive discussions about the possibilities of what an extensive stay inside Lia Fáil would do to Seth. To his mind. But they had already gotten him out physically, they couldn’t give up now.

“Maybe we should move—” Rio started. She was cut off by a groan.

Seth slowly cracked one eye open. “What?” he croaked out.

“He’s awake!” Coco smiled.

“Welcome back to the real world.” Oz offered his hand to Seth. He took it and was effortlessly lifted to his feet by Oz. Seth wobbled a bit and Oz steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You alright?” Arago asked.

“I feel … fuzzy.”

“But you’re coherent.”

“Yes?”

Arago punched Seth in the jaw.

Seth fell like a sack of bricks. Oz quickly restrained Arago in a headlock with his prosthetic arm while Coco rushed to Seth’s side, hands hovering over him, not quite sure what to do. “Are you alright?”

“M’fine,” he mumbled behind his hand. “More awake now.” Removing it revealed a bloody nose. He pushed himself upright to see Arago flailing in Oz’s grip.

“Lemmie go! I’m not gonna hit him again!” Arago tried to smack Oz to make him let go, but at the awkward angle he didn’t do much damage.

“You promise?”

“I promise! Let—ow, jeez. Calm down, Oz.” Arago rubbed at his neck where the prosthetic left scratches that were already fading. He turned to Seth and glared. “I’m not healing that.” Oz whacked him upside the head. Arago did his best not to flinch, but rubbed his head anyway. “I’m still not healing that.”

Seth made a choking noise and turned away from Coco to spit out a mouthful of blood. He glared right back at Arago. “What was that for?!”

Arago bristled. “For being a fucking _idiot!_ ” Seth barely got his mouth open before Arago continued. “You _knew_ that you’d have no way out of Lia Fáil if you took my place! You knew and you came for me anyway, and I almost couldn’t get you back out!”

Seth stared at the man in stunned silence. It took him a moment to remember that he no longer had slaugh ghairm, and his supernatural vision had gone with it. He couldn’t read Arago’s aura, though he was fairly certain there wasn’t anything hidden behind his angry words. Seth’s expression twisted, looking distressed only for a brief moment before he switched to anger. Anger was easier. “You were the only one who could defeat Patchman!”

“You threw away your life for me!”

“Oh, like you’re any better,” Seth snapped.

Arago looked ready to yell again, but he cut himself off mid-breath. He let it out, long and slow, closing his eyes and relaxing his tensed shoulders. “I’m going back home.” In a split second, Arago was in the air and flying in the direction Seth assumed was his flat, using slaugh ghairm. _My seed_ , Seth thought bitterly. At this point, he didn’t expect he’d ever get it back. Maybe it was for the better.

Rio was stunned, left staring at the spot Arago had taken off from. Oz put a hand on his chin, as if trying to figure out what to do next. Coco offered a hand to Seth and helped him get back on his feet. He only swayed a little bit this time, but he still kept a tight grip on Coco’s arm.

“Well, we actually took the van out here,” Oz said. “So we should probably head over in that direction, if you’re ready.”

Seth nodded. He wiped his face with his sleeve in an attempt to get the blood off, but it didn’t make much of a difference since his sleeve was already covered in it. “So long as you don’t mind blood on the upholstery,” Seth muttered.

“Ah, it’s fine. Not like that hasn’t happened before,” Coco said matter-of-factly. She started trailing after Rio, who was already headed for the car. Behind them, he could see Oz shrink Lia Fáil to a small cube and store it inside a bag. Seth turned away from him and followed Coco, still keeping a hand on her shoulder and not being proud of the fact that he was still stumbling over his own feet. How long had he been trapped in Lia Fáil? He hadn’t even bothered to think about that. His surroundings were drastically different from what he remembered going in. The trees were dead. Small patches of snow littered the ground, catching the light of the noon sun. Summer had only just ended when the battle with Gogmagog happened, so it had to have been more than just a few months. But Coco’s hair couldn’t have grown long enough to put in a bun in just half a year.

He recognized Oz’s steel deathtrap of a van, and tensed. He remembered all too well how Oz drove. He tried not to look too relieved when Rio was the one who got into the driver’s side. Coco made sure he got into the back of the van alright, and hopped into the passenger seat alongside Rio. Oz was the one who climbed in the back with him.

The car started. He observed for a while, but didn’t pay much attention to what he was seeing. Coco had Joe’s druid staff resting in her lap. Rio was dressed far too light for snowy weather in just a t-shirt and jeans, but she didn’t look like she had a problem with the temperature. Oz, he finally realized, was missing two limbs. He seemed relatively well adjusted, so it couldn’t have been too recent. Rio and Coco started chatting quietly in the front. Seth could listen, but he gave up trying to be perceptive and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall of the van. He just about felt ready to fall asleep. Ironic, since he had been asleep for … “How long?” Seth asked. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

“Two years,” Oz answered.  “Two and a half,” he corrected himself.

Seth looked at Oz. It unnerved him, knowing Oz could still read his personality and emotional state like an open book. Oz didn’t need supernatural help to see auras. He was born with the ability, as far as Seth had been able to figure out. He looked down at the floor before actual eye contact could be made. True to Coco’s words, there were a few old bloodstains in the van. He wondered who they belonged to. “Do I have anywhere to go back to? My flat?”

“Yes and no. Your old flat certainly doesn’t belong to you anymore. Technically, you were declared dead, so you don’t own _anything_ anymore. But we did put all your stuff into storage. We can help you move into a new place as soon as you’re back on your feet. In the meantime, I don’t think it’ll kill anyone if you borrow an empty room at the Albion base in London. You helped save the world, after all.” Oz smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Seth almost started tapping his fingers on the floor, until he remembered he no longer had any on that hand. He made a point to not look at the stump. “What’s the base like? High security? Steel walls? Secret passcodes to get in?”

“A house near Chiswick, actually.”

Seth grunted in response.

“We’re not going there right away though.”

Seth looked back up to Oz.

“Arago’s healing abilities _have_ gotten a lot better over the last couple of years, but it’d make all of us feel better if you got that arm looked over by a professional. Don’t want to find out he healed over shrapnel or accidentally grew an infection along with your flesh. Though, like I said, he’s gotten better about that last bit.”

“Comforting.”

 

~

 

Arago stopped rummaging through a pile of laundry with questionable degrees of cleanliness. He stared blankly at nothing for a good minute before groaning. “I forgot to give Seth his seed back.”

“You plan to give it _back?_ ” Beggar shouted.

“Well it’s not mine!” But as the words left his mouth, the statement felt wrong. Something in Arago’s gut twisted.

“He gave it to you. Doesn’t that make it yours now?”

“Yes, but …” The devil’s seed belonged to him now, didn’t it? It was _his_. “No,” he quickly corrected himself. “I intend to give it back. I promised I would.” The uncomfortable sensation in his stomach faded away. That’s right, he thought. He _promised_. He wouldn’t go back on his word.

“Suit yourself, Master.” Beggar bobbed slightly, which Arago had come to recognize as the ghost’s way of shrugging. He floated through the wall, out of Arago’s line of sight and sense range.

Arago looked back at the pile of clothes. He had meant to clean them sometime last week, since a good number of them were bloody (and had transferred the blood onto the other previously unbloodied clothes) but he’d forgotten all about it in his excitement of a breakthrough on freeing Seth. He ran his hand along stiff brownish patches on the fabric and frowned. He’d probably have to throw them out now. Great.

He stood up and kicked the mess back into the corner of his bedroom. He’d deal with it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought for a long time about how exactly Seth would get out of Lia Fáil. In the end, I couldn't come up with anything concrete and left it vague. Oh well.


	2. Chapter 2

Seth woke up in a cold sweat. His first thought was that he was surprised it took him over a week to have a nightmare. The second was that he was surprised it was about events before he contracted Orc, rather than any of the things he did while it was in his possession. Or even gogmagog, or the timeless nonexistence inside of Lia Fáil.

He grasped for the blankets with a hand that didn’t exist, then growled in frustration. He kicked the blankets off his body and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The room was bland, stripped bare of everything except a twin sized bed and a dresser, two of the drawers full of Seth’s clothes that had been packed up by his … friends. He supposed he could call them that now. “Acquaintances just fighting for the same goal” didn’t quite encompass all the lengths they had gone to for Seth.

The digital clock on top of the dresser read 4:02AM. Far earlier than he usually got up, but he didn’t think he’d be able to go back to sleep at this point. He got out of bed and fumbled for the light switch in the dark room. Getting dressed was still an ordeal, but he managed to get jeans on with only minimal frustration this time. He would have preferred a dress shirt underneath his jumper, but he didn’t have the patience for all the buttons at the moment.

He turned off the light before opening the door and going downstairs. Albion’s “London base” really was no more than a fairly large house, which Seth honestly didn’t think Oz would have. But he supposed he and his old team would’ve had to stay somewhere when they weren’t out on their jobs. It had a fully furnished living room, a stocked kitchen, even a few pictures on the walls, and a number of bedrooms that Seth had yet to see be opened. He didn’t push the topic. Even without his powers, Oz seemed wary of Seth. He could hardly blame him.

When he got to the base of the stairs, he didn’t expect to see a light coming from the kitchen doorway. Oz didn’t normally wake up for another hour or so, but this wouldn’t be the first time he got called in for an emergency in the middle of the night. Seth stepped through the door and was about to ask Oz if he planned on making food, but it wasn’t Oz who was hunched over the sink, scrubbing at a shirt that turned the water in the sink a disgusting red. “Arago?”

Arago jumped and whipped around, wide eyed. His neck, shoulder, and part of his bare chest were all covered in almost dried blood. “Seth!” He visibly relaxed. “I didn’t notice you. Your aura is quiet.”

Seth’s lips almost twitched into a smirk, but turned away from Arago to raid the pantry for a box of cereal. “I should hope so. It took me a long time to learn how to manipulate and mask my aura. If I can’t do something that simple anymore just because I can’t see it, I’d be pretty disappointed with myself.”

Arago grunted in agreement. “Seth—” he stopped and glared at thin air. “Would you just go away?” he snapped. His eyes followed something—someone—that Seth couldn’t see. Then he finally looked back to Seth.

“Beggar?” He placed the cereal on the counter.

“Yeah.” Arago went back to scrubbing dirt and blood off his shirt, whatever his previous statement was going to be was forgotten.

Seth grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge. “What are you doing here?”

“Cleaning my clothes.” Arago wrung the shirt out.

“I meant why here, and not somewhere else.”

“It was closest.”

“Oh. Scoot over.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re in front of the silverware drawer.”

Arago grumbled, but moved aside. Seth fixed his cereal and sat down at the dining table while Arago drained the sink and wiped the remaining blood off of himself and the counter. To Seth’s surprise, he left his shirt on the counter, and instead of leaving, he grabbed a bag of beef jerky from the pantry and sat down at the table across from Seth.

“I thought you were just here to clean yourself up?”

“They get mad at me if I don’t eat. And I stopped keeping food at my place a long time ago,” he shrugged.

“You don’t keep food at your flat?”

He shrugged again and ripped open the bag. “I don’t eat much.” He stuffed the jerky in his mouth and continued talking. “There isn’t a whole lot I can eat anyway.”

Seth grimaced and looked away from Arago. He didn’t even have a response. Plus, it kept Arago from talking with his mouth full. They ate in silence. Seth felt like it should have been awkward. But he couldn’t bring himself to care this early in the morning, and Arago seemed oblivious to everything around him. Seth finished his cereal and got up to put his dish in the sink. Or maybe, he thought, he shouldn’t put it where Arago recently dumped ungodly amounts of blood which might not even all have been his.

“Oh, wait,” Arago called. Seth turned around to look at him. “Do you want this?” He pointed to himself.

“Excuse me?”

“This. The seed.” He tapped his chest. “Do you want it back?”

“I—yes.” He stammered. “But why don’t you want it? Was it damaged?”

“Still in perfect working order,” Arago reassured. “I admit I’ll miss flying. That was really useful. But I’d rather give it back.”

Seth almost asked why again. But he supposed he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “Okay,” he said. “Sure.” Arago smiled.

“Great.” He sealed up the bag of jerky, walked past Seth, and threw it in the pantry. When Seth didn’t make a move, Arago snatched the bowl from his hands and nearly broke it when he tossed it into the sink. “So have you been job hunting? Or were you thinking about coming back to work in the café or something?”

Seth stared at Arago as he walked into the living room. “Why do you care?”

“I spent over two years finding a way to get you out of that damn box.” He flicked the light switch on. “I’m sorry if I want to see you live a normal life again.”

Seth stood in the kitchen doorway, unmoving.

“Come on. You want your seed back, right? No time like the present.”

He narrowed his eyes and walked up to Arago. Surely, there had to be a catch. Blackmail. _Something_. But before he knew it, a blinding light encompassed the room as Arago put a hand to his chest and drew out the devil’s seed.

“I just want to say one thing.”

And there it was.

Arago’s fist tightened over the seed, the light seeping between his fingers. “I know you’ve done some things. I won’t ask. I probably don’t want to know. I just want _you_ to know that you’ve got more options now. You don’t have to take the unfavorable path just because it’s the one that gets results. We can help you.”

Seth stared at Arago, dumbfounded, before he found proper words to respond. “Wait, that’s it?”

“I mean, we’d all prefer not to have to arrest you for murder or something.”

“How much of that speech was Oz’s doing?”

“Wh—I thought up all that stuff!” he shouted. “Well, after certain people made … suggestions.”

“Your delivery was impressive, I’ll give you that. You almost seemed mature.”

“Stupid brat.”

“Name calling? Really? I take it back then.”

“Keep that up and you’ll never get this back.” Arago closed the distance between them and thrust the seed into Seth’s chest.

He blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

Seth woke up in his borrowed bed for the second time that day, bleary and incoherent. He groaned. He felt like he’d just been hit by a truck. Just like the first time he contracted Orc and got the devil’s seed. Wait.

He had his seed again.

The heaviness behind his ribcage was undeniable. Soon he would get used to it and it would be unnoticeable again. But for now, he could feel the seed pulsing alongside his heart, pumping magic through his veins.

He held up his stump arm and stared at it. Dark blues and greens with a dash of red made up a faint outline of a hand that was no longer there, his body remembering what should be there even if it no longer was. He wondered how long it would take for that to go away, if ever. He’d read that phantom limb pains sometimes never left. He wasn’t sure if seeing the ghost of his hand would help with that or make it worse. Oz would know, but he didn’t want to ask. He’d find out for himself soon enough anyway. He’d had his fair share of phantom pains in the past week.

Seth let his arm fall back to the bed with a muffled thump. He turned his head to look at the clock. 11:38AM. Not surprising, considering the strain the seed put on his body. Better than the first time, when he was out for nearly two days. He heard people talking and once again swung his legs over the bed. He sat for a while, trying to get his bearings with the welcome but now unfamiliar weight in his chest. That was when he heard a yelp from downstairs.

He opened the door to find the lights all on. He quietly walked down the stairs and peered around the corner into the dining area to see Rio sitting backwards on a chair, her shirt hiked up to reveal a gash on her side. Oz was kneeling next to her, picking bloody shards of wood out of the wound and putting them in a tray on the kitchen table. “I’ve got the big pieces out,” he said. “Just a few more small splinters, and then we can let Arago heal this up.”

Rio nodded, keeping her jaw clenched and her eyes fixed on the wall in front of her as Oz continued. Arago and Coco were hovering in the corner of the room, Arago staring intently at Rio getting patched up.

“That’s a little bit creepy, Arago,” Coco said.

“Oh, sorry.” He looked away. “I was just thinking.”

“If you’re thinking about how this is your fault, it’s not,” Rio snapped at him. “Everyone gets hurt on jobs like these.”

“I was trying to bring the questing beast back to the Spring Court, not to get angry and kill it,” he pouted. “You guys shouldn’t have to help me.”

“And ­ _you_ shouldn’t have to take on all these stupid tasks!” Coco said.

“Gogmagog left the Fae Realm pretty wrecked. I’m just doing what I can to try and fix things.”

“You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Got it all out,” Oz announced. “Have at it, Arago.” Arago pushed himself off the wall and walked over to Rio. “Maybe someday you’ll figure out how to expel foreign object when you heal.”

“Or maybe it just doesn’t work that way.” Arago peeled off his gloves and carefully placed his fingers around the gash in Rio’s side. She sucked in a breath and tensed as her skin closed up and smoothed over. Arago removed his hands just as his fingertips began to feel a slight sizzle. He put the gloves back on. “Done. How’s that feel?”

“Much better, thanks.” She pulled her shirt down over the new skin, though it still had a bloodstained tear in the fabric. “You’re pretty handy when you’re actually around, you know.”

“I won’t be around much longer.”

“What? Why?” Coco asked.

“I need to bring the questing beast to the Spring Court.”

“A little late for that,” Oz said.

“They only said _preferably_ alive!” Arago paused. “Well, I think they did.”

“Do you need help transporting it to the Realm?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll see you guys— _gah!_ ” Arago jumped back when he turned to see Seth in the doorway. “It’s like you run around on mute or something!”

“Hello to you too,” Seth said.

“Good _bye_ ,” Arago shoved past him.

Everyone could hear the front door slam. The silence was stifling and no one knew where to look except Oz, who kept his eyes directed at Seth. Specifically at his chest, where his seed was shining like a beacon of energy.

Rio cleared her throat to cut the tension. “I’m hungry. I’m gonna go make lunch unless you guys object.”

“Sure.” Oz finally looked away from Seth. “I’m not sure what I have though, I need to go shopping.” He followed her to the kitchen.

Coco’s eyes hadn’t left where Arago had disappeared around the corner. “I just don’t know what we’re gonna do with him.”

“You can’t change idiotic self-sacrificing tendencies,” Seth said.

 “Well that,” she agreed. “But I meant he’s been distancing himself. He was gone a lot you know, looking for ways to get you out. He quit his job only a few months after gogmagog and we’ve been trying to convince him to come back. Technically it’s not an issue for him to help our division, since Oz pulled strings and made him an official outside help source or … something. But it would be easier if he came back.”

Seth scoffed. “And he lectures _me_ about looking for jobs.”

“He lectured you?”

“As best as Arago _can_ lecture someone.”

Coco sighed. “Well. We’ll figure something out. For now, we should probably help in the kitchen. Rio always uses the wrong spices and Oz has no taste buds.”

“Found that out the hard way?”

“Yep.”

 

~

 

Arago had moved past needing to use Ben Bulben to get to the Fae Realm a long time ago. Ben Bulben was like the front door for humans who didn’t want their brains scrambled by the paths that faefolk normally used to travel back and forth. Sure, mortals stumbled onto the secret doorways and entrances, but those were sporadic and humans weren’t meant to endure the kind of travel the fae used. But after his first visit and a voiced concern that travelling all the way to Ben Bulben every time he needed to pop in would be problematic, Arago was told that brionac might as well be an all-access pass to using whatever path he found to get to the Fae Realm, no mental or physical repercussions whatsoever. All he needed to know was how to find the find the elusive entrances.

So Arago learned. Hidden in in between spaces and under nooks and crannies, they seemed to be everywhere. Even without asking fae directly where they were, he was surprised at how many he could find when he was hardly looking. He wondered how more people _didn’t_ stumble in and become trapped in the Fae Realm forever.

The entrance Arago favored wasn’t a doorway as much as it was a crack. A sliver of space in between a sweets shop and a café without a real name that was run by an old woman who insisted on being called Grannie O’Connell, though she didn’t give any indication that it was her real name. She was actually the fae that had told Arago about the door in the first place, since he hadn’t been able to find it himself. She had apparently created it for personal use and told Arago he could use it anytime he needed. “Consider it my appreciation for saving the world, dear,” she told him when he said he’d find a way to repay her. Strangely, he didn’t feel any concern or guilt for using it after she said that, and had been using the entrance ever since.

The physical space was no more than a hands width across and easily chalked up to poor building planning. Not even small children would think to try and slip into the crack. Not that anyone would notice. The first few times he used it, Arago worried that someone would spot him and try to follow, but humans seemed to be oblivious. Now, he didn’t think twice, and he wedged his shoulder into the small opening. The rest of his body easily followed, along with the massive bag he had slung over his back. His body didn’t shrink and the crack didn’t grow, but he slipped through and out into the center of a clearing filled with all sorts of trees that shouldn’t be able to grow in the same climate.

He breathed in the scent of the Fae Realm, but it was quickly ruined by the stink of dead flesh coming from the bag. He wrinkled his nose and shifted the bad on his shoulder. Now he wished he had been more careful handling the remains. Brionac had started to rot the flesh a bit. He hoped it wouldn’t be an issue with the Spring Court, but after giving it consideration he decided he didn’t care.

It took him a long time, or maybe it didn’t, to get to the edge of the forest. The sensation of time and space warping as he walked through it was an odd one, and difficult to get used to, but Arago had spent enough time there to at least be prepared when it happened, though he could quite say he’d gotten used to it. He didn’t know if he ever would.

The landscape settled down when he got to a cliff overlooking a glen overrun with grass and flowers and thin trees with brightly colored leaves. In the distance he recognized a dark patch that he knew was a semicircle of plants shaped into seats on either side of a very large and very empty throne made of stone, covered in moss and vines and other overgrowths. The stairs down the cliff were nowhere to be seen, but he hadn’t exactly planned on using them. The forest would have spat him out near them if he was. He gripped the edge of the Cliffside and leapt, dragging his hand along the wall to keep his descent at least slightly controlled. He hit the ground with a _thud_ that would have broken anyone else’s ankles. He shook it off, feeling brionac’s energy pooling around his feet where there was probably more damage than he cared to admit, but he walked towards the Spring Court and hardly noticed when his ankles healed completely.

The Spring Court, contrary to most of the myths, wasn’t synonymous with the Summer Court. It would be more accurate to call it a Spring Council, as it was a group of any number of fae who served as representatives and leaders of the entire Summer Court, and acted as the Summer King’s advisor, when a king was present on the throne. Likewise with the Autumn Court’s relationship to the Winter Court and the Winter Queen.

The Spring Court was small. Very, very small. Arago was surprised to learn it only consisted of three fae who kept things running and everyone from killing each other. Eolande was the recent result of many nymphs, spirits, and other weak fae forming together to create one entity. She called herself the spirit of the glen, a guardian of the forested area and sanctuary for any fae who came to her domain. She was tall and fit, with full lips and eyes and skin blacker than Arago had ever seen and even darker hair in twists down to her ankles, blooming with every flower he could think of, petals and leaves constantly falling onto her white slip.

Warren, as far as Arago could tell, was far older than he looked. Which was about twelve. He had white-hot glowing eyes that matched his almost shapeless glowing wings and a smile that seemed kind until he showed his rows of teeth that were sharper than his ears and spiky blue hair. His clothes were always in some state of disarray and lightning-like energy crackled around him when he sat idle for too long. He often looked at nothing, staring into someplace or sometime that no longer was. He talked frequently of the previous Summer King Titania and other kings before her with a familiarity that made Arago feel like he was intruding on Warren’s privacy.

Hefeydd was a short and round old man with green skin and tufts of grey hair that reminded Arago of a clown crossed with an angry frog. He made the mistake of thinking that green skin meant he was a kind of leprechaun and got an hour long lecture about how he should never assume species based on looks because fae had a habit of looking however they wanted. He tried not to talk with Hefeydd when he could.

Eolande nodded as he approached through an archway of vines, signifying he was here for the Court and not just passing through the glen. Warren seemed to be preoccupied with a stray branch on his seat. Hefeydd, as usual, looked like he wished Arago would spontaneously burst into flames.

“You could not keep it alive?” Warren asked without looking up. Hefeydd’s eyes snapped to Arago and he glared with all his might.

“No,” he admitted. He dropped the bag in the center of the semicircle. “There’s more here than it looks. The bag is bigger on the inside.”

“We’re _aware_ ,” Hefeydd snapped. “We gave you the bag for the express purpose of capturing the questing beast. _Alive_.”

Hadn’t “alive” been optional? Arago’s chest tightened and his stomach twisted into knots. He was so sure it would be alright if he brought it back dead instead of alive. “It … it was unavoidable—”

“It wasn’t. You are perfectly capable of completing the task with little to no harm to yourself, since you can take as many hits as needed to get the beast into the bag,” Warren finally looked up from the stray branch he had his hands wrapped around. His wings twitched erratically and he didn’t blink, staring at Arago without expression. “You admit this is true.”

“Y-yes. But it—” The uncomfortable twisting in his guts grew to a sharp pain. “It hurt my friend. I acted before I thought, I killed it. I just…” Black spots danced in his vision and the world seemed to sway. He began to panic. What happened to him? Did he get hit by a spell? Poison? Something brionac couldn’t counter?

Arago barely heard Hefeydd hiss out “You made a contract with us,” underneath the ringing that began in his ears. He felt ready to vomit. Or pass out. Or both. He opened his mouth to cry out for help, certainly they could see something was wrong, right? Why didn’t they—

“For god’s sake, you two!” Eolande snapped. “Can’t you see he’s in pain? Hefeydd, you would’ve done the exact same thing if the questing beast had hurt one of your humans. Release him from the contract!”

Contract? What?

“I, Warren, release Arago Hunt from his contract with the Spring Court regarding the questing beast,” he heard Warren recite, but the ringing drowned out anything else after that.

Arago’s vision went black and he wasn’t sure what happened next, because the next thing he knew, Eolande was standing over him (when had he fallen to his hands and knees?) and he heard her saying “—release you from your contract with the Spring Court.”

Relief flooded over him in an instant. The pain stopped. His vision went back to normal. He still felt weak, but no longer had trouble breathing or felt like he was going to throw up. “What … was that?” he asked through his gasps for air.

Eolande gave Warren a worried look. He shrugged and energy crackled around his wings and arms. “A contract,” she answered.

“I _got_ that bit,” he snapped. He lowered his head into his hands and muffled a groan. “Definitely got that bit.”

“The Spring Court is dismissed. I’ll take care of this,” Eolande said. When Arago looked up again, the two men were gone. “Stay sitting. You’ll likely be dizzy for a while.”

“But what was it? What happened?”

“A broken contract with fae. Our promises are weightier than a human’s, and you’ve been making them with us since the first day you walked through the doors of Ben Bulben.”

“I have?”

“You offered “anything” in exchange for the means of freeing your companion from Lia Fáil. Had one of us actually done it, you would have been indebted to the fae for all eternity, or at least until they released you. And not many would be kind enough to do so.”

“I _would_ have done anything,” he mumbled.

“Still. Be more careful, throwing promises around here. You’ve fulfilled all of them so far, but broken contracts are … unpleasant.”

“Understatement.”

She smiled. “True.”

“So you all had to release me since I made the deal with all of you?”

“Yes. Hefeydd almost did not.”

Arago frowned. “I’m not surprised.”

“Don’t be too harsh on him. He’s been on edge. I’m sure you’ll start hearing the rumors that the Autumn Court is renewing their efforts to find someone to take Oberon’s place. He is unhappy about it.”

“They’re looking for a Winter Queen? Why now, after all these years of them being gone?”

“Gogmagog affected everyone. It scared the lesser fae into hiding, and killed many stronger ones who were brave enough to defend the Realm. I myself am making movements to get a Summer King crowned and on the throne by the solstice.”

“Let me guess. Hefeydd doesn’t like your choice?”

“You could say that.”

“He doesn’t like anything.”

“He’s just overly concerned. I knew him several times over, before I became Eolande. He is kind at heart.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Arago took a deep breath and stood up. Just like Eolande said, he did still feel dizzy. He shook his head and tried to blink away the uncomfortable feeling. It would go away soon, he was sure. “For what it’s worth, I trust whoever you choose. I think you have good judgment.”

Eolande narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see. You should return to the human realm.”

Arago nodded. “I’ll be back. Sometime.”

“I’m sure you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only very basic information on the seelie/summer/spring and unseelie/winter/autumn courts, as far as I've been able to find. And since I didn't like the interchangeable names I gave each name a specific meaning. Except seelie/unseelie. I won't be using those terms cause I said so.
> 
> Basically, I'm running with my own rules here and I hope I'm good at explaining them.


	4. Chapter 4

For once, Seth didn’t have a master plan. He just wanted to disappear for an undetermined amount of time. He wasn’t used to being in such close quarters with so many people who knew who he really was and what he’d done. And as sweet and sincere as Coco was, it didn’t make up for Rio’s half-hearted attempts at being hospitable or the cold stares Oz gave him throughout lunch. He just needed to escape for a while.

It was a coincidence that when he was browsing the windows of various shops he saw Arago on the other side of the street, carrying a ratty sack over his shoulder. It was a shock when he suddenly disappeared without any warning.

He only meant to inspect the area, see what exactly had happened, but he somehow found himself being hit by a short and shouty old lady in floral prints with a very blunt wooden spoon.

“Go on, get! That’s not for you to mess with!” She whacked him on the shoulder.

“What—ow! I’m sorry! I don’t know what you’re— _ow!_ ”

“I said get!”

“I was just following my friend!”

At that, she immediately stopped. “You know Arago?”

He hoped he wouldn’t regret this. “Yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Seth.”

Her eyes widened. “You escaped Lia Fáil,” she whispered. “Come inside,” she said in a louder voice.

“But I’m not—”

She grabbed Seth by the wrist and dragged him into the café. The minute the door swung shut behind them, Seth ripped his hand from the old woman’s iron grip. “Who are you? I don’t even know your name!”

She gave a long suffering sigh. “You humans are so obsessed with _naming_ things. If you really feel the need to give me a pronounceable string of sounds, just go with Grannie O’Connell. I’ll make us some tea. You sit anywhere you like,” she called as she disappeared behind the pastry counter.

He gave serious consideration to dashing away and hiding in a park with the books he had shoved in the pockets of his coat. The only one who would be witness to him fleeing would be what looked like a college student napping on an open text book. Not like _she_ could tell the old woman which direction he went. Then again, this was as quiet a place as any to read. And he wasn’t one to turn down free tea. So he unzipped his coat and set it down on a table far away from the sleeping customer.

Grannie O’Connell walked up with a tray holding two steaming cups of tea. “I never said what kind,” Seth said as he said down.

“Willow’s bark, with lots of honey. It’s bitter by itself.” She set the cup down in front of Seth and pointed at his stump. “You need it, whether or not you want it.”

He refused to look at the aura outline of his missing hand. Angry red splotches flared up around the stump, where his nerves throbbed in pain. “Don’t you have customers to serve?”

She sat down across from Seth. “Carlie’s the only one who comes in here on days like these. We won’t be bothered. So,” she adjusted herself in her seat and picked up her own cup of tea. “You’re the boy Arago freed from Lia Fáil. How’d he do it?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t ask.”

“Not even curious?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” _I’ve been too preoccupied trying to get used to only one hand, being partially deaf in one ear, and suddenly being jobless and technically homeless. I’m lucky that Oz puts up with me_ , Seth thought bitterly. “How do you know about me, though?”

“Oh, anyone who knows Arago knows about _you_. He searched far and wide trying to get you out of that little box. I’ve had to pull him in here on quite a few occasions to keep him from burning himself out when he went to the Realm to search for solutions. He was pretty distraught over the whole thing.”

He said nothing, only sipped the tea for a while. It was too sweet for him, and he wasn’t sure how well it would work against pain that wasn’t actually there, but he got the feeling that if he didn’t drink it, the old woman would bring the spoon out and smack him again. “I’ve been told similar things by a few people.”

“But not by Arago,” she concluded.

“You’re perceptive.”

“It comes with age,” she smiled. “You really must be something special, for him to go through all the trouble he did.”

“I’m not,” he said immediately. Not sweet and with a smile like he usually would around people he’d just met, but bitter and resigned. _Why you, why not me?_ “I’m nothing special.”

“True. No one’s special. People are people, fae are fae. Animals, trees … nothing is special. It just is.” She took a long sip of her tea. “But we _are_ special in the eyes of other people. You may be nothing, but to Arago you obviously mean something. You’re special to him.”

Seth’s pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at the cup sitting in front of him. “Sure. Whatever.”

“If it means anything at all, I think you’re special too.”

His eyes darted up to meet hers. They were an unnaturally bright and youthful gold in the middle of her wrinkled, aged face. Unnerving. He quickly looked away again.

She continued. “Contrary to what many others will say, you aren’t the first to make it out of Lia Fáil.”

“I know that. Arago—”

“Wasn’t the first one either.”

He frowned. “Okay, fine. But what does that matter?”

“Rushing in to save someone from being overtaken by the stone was hardly a new thing on your part. It’s been done. There’s a certain amount of time where you can go in to replace the loser. A grace period, before it closes off again. Many have rushed in to save their defeated loved ones without thinking. Some successfully take their place. Some come back out empty handed. Some have been trapped forever, neither returning.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. He didn’t want to hear this.

“Ah, don’t give me that look young man. I’m not done yet!” She snapped. “A few people have gotten out of Lia Fáil months or even years after they went in, far after the grace period is over. Arago wouldn’t shut up about it when he found out, though he still never told me how it was done. It’s rare, but it has happened before you. The difference is that those who returned never really came back.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that they were still trapped in the dream. Their minds never returned and their bodies withered away without anything to sustain them.”

“They were all comatose?”

“That would be the more human term. But the bodies of the ones who returned were described as ... colorless.”

“Color…?” Seth asked. His eyes widened. “They had no auras.”

“No souls,” she nodded.

“Oh.” He swallowed thickly. Was he colorless when they got him out? Was he faded, or bright? Was his soul still in his body or did it take time to leave Lia Fáil and rejoin his mortal form? It wasn’t hard to imagine his soul fading into nothing, just like the others most likely did.

He remembered what it was like inside of Lia Fáil. Everyone said you were trapped in an eternal dream, but that wasn’t the truth. The dream was real, certainly, and it lasted for quite a long time. It went on until you were complacent, until you were satisfied. You lived in your ideal world, and you died in your ideal world.

And then nothing. Never ending darkness with no one but himself for company. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak or see or feel—

Seth put his hand over his mouth and bit back on the bile rising in his throat.

“Breathe, dear.”

He took heavy, uneven breaths through his nose, his hand still clasped over his mouth, his shoulders hunched and shaking. His wide eyes were fixed on the table, staring at the grain of the wood. There was substance. The table existed. He existed. This was real. This wasn’t a dream. The darkness was gone, he chanted silently. This was _real_.

His breathing calmed down but his hand still shook when he removed it from his mouth and balled it into a fist in his lap. “Sorry,” he croaked.

“Oh hush. I brought the subject up, you don’t apologize for anything,” she smacked him in the shoulder again. “All that to say, you’ve got a remarkable amount of willpower.” She waited for Seth to say something, but he stayed silent. She sighed. “Finish your tea,” she finally said. “It’ll help.”

He obeyed, drinking it almost mechanically while Grannie O’Connell continued to talk.

“You were gone a long time. I’m guessing it’s been hard to readjust to life when everyone else kept on going without you. Am I right?”

Seth nodded without looking at her and downed the last of the tea.

“I might have something for you to look into.” Grannie O’Connell scooted her chair closer to the table and leaned in close to Seth so she could whisper, even though the only other person in the café was fast asleep. “Have you heard about the situation with the Winter Queen and the Summer King?”

 

~

 

When Arago stepped out of the crack in the wall, it was dark. Dim street lamps and only a few shop windows illuminated the light flurries of snow that fell on the quiet streets. He glanced at his watch, but it read the same time it was when he walked into the Realm. There was no way to tell how long it had been dark, but that meant he had probably been in there a few hours at least. And Grannie O’Connell’s café was still open, so it couldn’t be _too_ late, he reasoned.

The café, however, was empty when he looked in. All except for one corner table, where the short old woman was having a cup of tea with “Seth?” He shouted. The two of them jumped at the sound, even muffled by the glass. Seth rolled his eyes at Arago’s confused expression and Grannie O’Connell motioned for him to come inside. He did, making a beeline right for their table. “Why are you here?”

“I had personal business to take care of.” Seth took a sip of his tea.

“He tried to follow you,” Grannie snapped.

Seth choked on his tea.

“I had to beat it into him that the portals are _not_ for human use.”

Seth recovered from his coughing fit and looked anywhere except Arago.

“You followed me? Why?”

“I was here on personal business,” he repeated.

“Doesn’t matter now. I had a long talk with him about why he shouldn’t use a fae’s means of travel without an escort. It won’t happen again, will it dear?”

“No,” he said. “It won’t.”

“You were talking all this time? But I’ve been in the Fae Realm for … actually, does anyone have the time? I left my phone at home and my watch is messed up again.”

“Almost midnight, which means it’s time for you boys to get out of my café. I was supposed to close up a few hours ago.”

“Wait, midnight? You were—”

“Shoo!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Arago turned around in a huff and headed for the door. “Jeez.”

Seth stood up and put his coat on. “I appreciate the tea,” he bowed slightly to Grannie O’Connell. “And the advice.”

“Good,” she nodded. “Come back anytime you need more.”

Seth followed Arago to the door and they stepped out into the still falling snow. Seth shivered, fumbling with the zipper on his coat for a few minutes before managing to get it up halfway and catching it on his shirt. He made a muffled exasperated noise before working on getting it unstuck.

Arago chewed on his lip. “Wouldn’t buttons be easier? For … y’know.”

“Only barely,” Seth grumbled. “I’ve been meaning to get around to that. Getting things to accommodate my circumstance. My boots don’t have laces, but I’m not waiting for summer when I need to wear running shoes and I can’t even _hold_ a pair of shoelaces without looking like an idiot.” He finally got the zipper unstuck and zipped all the way up the coat. “You never realize how many clothes have buttons and zippers until you only have one set of fingers to work with.”

“I—I’m sorry.”

Seth raised an eyebrow. “There is literally no way my hand is your fault. I chose to fight. I got hurt. That’s how this works.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t heal it. You and Oz both…” he trailed off. “You’re so young. You shouldn’t have to deal with losing a limb.”

Seth frowned. “I’m not _that_ young.”

“You’re young to me.”

“You’re—”

“Twenty seven. Twenty eight in August.”

“What? That’s not…” Seth thought for a minute. “Ah, right. I lost time. Everyone’s older now.” He shoved his arms into his coat pockets up to his elbows. “So should I be celebrating my twenty-third birthday or my twenty-first this year?”

“Hell if I know.”

“You’re not very helpful.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” Arago huffed, watching the air form clouds in front of his face. “Wish I’d brought my bike. Or my phone. I don’t wanna walk home in this weather.”

“Well that’s your own fault.”

“You’re in the same boat as me, you know.”

“Hardly. I flew here.” The wind started to pick up around Seth, ruffling his hair and swirling the snow around him. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait.”

The wind died down. Seth waited.

“What were you talking to Grannie O’Connell about for so long?”

“Not much. She just gave me a few things to think about is all.”

“That’s not an answer, you ass.”

Seth smirked. “No, it’s not.” The wind and snow swirled around him again, and he took off into the air before Arago could shout at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grannie O'Connell is, quite possibly, the second greatest fan character for Arago that I ever helped make. She's me and mynameisyarra's brainchild. Technically, this whole story is also a brainchild with Yarra. But I've claimed it as my own since I'm the one who decided to actually write it.
> 
> As for the timeline. Arai said that pretty much the entire cast (minus Seth and Joe) are 20. Which I don't like. During the manga, I'd like to think that when Arago became a detective he was at least 23. Coco was 20. Rio was 23. Seth was 18 (still in high school but the manga said you had to be over 18 to volunteer at the MET). And Oz was something like 22, 23? And if we pretend that at least SOME time passed in the manga, 2 years we'll say, and then we add the 2 and a half years Seth spent in Lia Fáil.  
> So, the ages in this story are as follows:  
> Arago - 27  
> Rio - 27  
> Coco - 24  
> Oz - 26  
> Seth - 20  
> Joe - still dead


	5. Chapter 5

“Arago, at least _think_ about it!” Rio shouted. Maybe taking him back to the SCI department wasn’t the best idea. He kept scowling at the artifacts and research books on the shelf and the paperwork on the desks.

“There’s nothing to think about! I’m fine as I am now.”

“You’re living in the cheapest flat you can find and you still can hardly even scrape enough by for rent. You won’t even eat unless we make you do it, and I _know_ you don’t eat at home. There isn’t any food there.”

“Not like I need to! At least, I can go for a long time. Brionac sustains me just fine.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a filing cabinet. “And I find ways to make rent.”

“Do you want to be jobless ­ _and_ homeless?”

“I have a job,” he grumbled.

“Being the unpaid errand boy for the Spring Court is not a job,” she deadpanned.

“They always repay me. Somehow.”

“Mhm. And if it happens to not be money or something you can pawn off this time? What do you have, a week before you’re evicted? Two weeks? Slums like you’re living in won’t give you extensions on your rent due.”

He glared. “Three weeks.”

“Fine. Three weeks. Plenty of time to do more favors for the fae, I suppose. I just… I really want you to consider coming back, okay? It would hardly take any paperwork to get you back on the force, after all you’ve done. We all miss you. And it’s not like you’ll be travelling everywhere anymore, right? You already found what you were looking for.”

“Maybe not.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. “Well. If you’re still looking, everyone would feel better if you weren’t going to be kicked out onto the street on your little soul search. And you already help SCI. You’d just do it more and be paid for it.”

Arago sighed. “Fine. I guess it would make sense to come back.”

Rio beamed.

 

~

 

The bell above the door chimed as it swung in. Seth looked around the bustling café and couldn’t even find an empty seat, so he went straight for the counter just as a girl walked away with her food. A teen with an excessive amount of piercings and an undercut was standing behind the counter. “Hi. What can I get for you?”

“I just came to see if Grannie O’Connell could spare a few minutes. I wanted to talk.”

The boy raised an eyebrow and turned to the open door that led to a kitchen, from what Seth could see. “Granma, there’s some guy who wants to talk to you,” he called.

There was a loud “Hold on!” and a crashing noise. Grannie O’Connell burst through the doorway with a pigeon on her head.

“Did you let that thing into the kitchen _again?!_ ” the boy shrieked.

“Bernard isn’t a thing. Be nice.” She turned to Seth and let a small smile creeped onto her face. Seth suddenly felt the urge to run away. “Mind the cash register, dear, I’ll only be gone for a moment.”

“I already was!” he shouted as Grannie O’Connell walked out from behind the counter and once again dragged Seth by his wrist, this time outside of the café to the space between buildings where Seth watched Arago disappear a few days ago.

“I’m going to hazard a guess and say that you want to try my suggestion,” Grannie O’Connell smirked. The pigeon on her head cooed and shifted in its hair-nest.

“Uh—”

“Don’t stare. That’s rude. Now, my suggestion?”

“Oh. Yes. I’m going to give it a shot.”

“I knew you would. You have all the right colors for it.”

Seth looked around. “How do I…?” he trailed off.

“Lean down.”

He obeyed. She flicked his forehead.

“Now you have my protection for a round trip. But only once each way, and only through _my_ portal, so don’t get lost coming back or you might come back with a brain scramble.”

Seth rubbed his forehead. “Right. Thank y—” he cut himself off. “I appreciate your help,” he corrected. “I just go through the crack, right?”

“That’s right. Have fun and don’t get eaten!”

 

~

 

Rio was right, he had to admit. The paperwork that was involved with getting Arago into SCI had been a breeze. Once he agreed to come back, the application forms were practically shoved into his hands. “It’s just a formality,” Rio assured. “There’s no way the chief won’t let you back on the force.”

And it was. It barely took two days for him to receive a badge and his old title as detective. Coco made cookies to celebrate the event, and Oz even dropped by to offer his congratulations before he had to run off.

His first day on the job was uneventful. He crossed paths with Larry again, who decided to ignore him. He did paperwork. He and Coco discussed whether it would be better to pull in someone new who had been wanting to join SCI to be Arago’s partner or if they should just declare themselves a three-person team and leave it at that. He almost snapped at Beggar for creeping on Rio, but she turned around and gave a blood-curdling snarl, fangs and all, that scared the skull _and_ Arago into submission before he could say anything.

Coco insisted he take the rest of the cookies home when it was time to pack it in for the day. He rode his bike, as always, and when he got to his flat he immediately collapsed on the couch. He forgot how exhausting it was to interact with people for long amounts of time. Of course, getting approximately two hours of sleep on the previous night didn’t help at all.

He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep on the couch until he woke up to his phone blaring _The Last Unicorn_ from his jacket pocket. He groaned and fumbled for the phone and only just managed to get his fingers to cooperate enough to answer. “Oz,” he greeted, trying to sound awake, but his voice betrayed his state of not-quite-awake. “Hey.”

“Is Seth with you?”

“Nnnope.” He opened his eyes fully. No foreign auras in the house, other than Beggar’s. “Not here. Why?”

“Because he left two nights ago without warning, and he’s not back yet.” Oz said grimly. “I was willing to let one night slide and wait to see if he came back sometime last night. Obviously he hasn’t.”

Arago cursed. “You have no idea where he went?”

“No. He’s like a cat, he just comes and goes when he wants. But I think he’d notify at least one of us if he’d be gone two nights in a row.”

“Where do you need me?” Arago sat upright. “I can send beggar to search too.”

“Just anywhere you think he might be. I’m informing the girls now. Call if you find him.” Oz hung up.

 “Beggar?” he called. The skull appeared almost instantly. “Go check Grannie’s café and come report to me, alright?”

“What? She’ll kill me!” he shrieked in protest.

“You’re already dead, you idiot,” Arago glared. “ _Go_.”

Beggar was gone. Arago flopped back onto the couch and tried to psych himself to go search. It was too early for this.

 

~

 

Seth figured he would start with the Spring Court, since Summer had a reputation of liking humans more than Winter did. They were inviting and friendly, and also very curious. The electric boy with wings seemed very interested with him and how he managed to keep his mind intact before the dark woman shut him down and asked why Seth had sought an audience.

So he told them. The fat old man’s face split into a grin, but the boy frowned at him and the woman gently told Seth that they could not consider his offer since they already had a solution. She then asked Seth to deliver a message to Arago when he returned to the human world.

Seth thanked—no, he told them that he appreciated them hearing him out, and then asked for directions to the Autumn Court. The old man wrinkled his nose and scoffed. The boy pointed and told him “Just think a bit too hard about it once you get past that tree.”

He went where he was told.

 

~

 

Beggar returned to Arago who was scouting shady areas where lots of magical business was dealt, sporting bruises on his ghostly bones. “How did you even…?”

“I told you she would kill me!” he wailed. “Grannie O’Connell is a ruthless—”

“That doesn’t matter. Did you find Seth?”

“She just said she didn’t serve dead people and started hitting me.”

“Mm. Guess he’s not there.”

 

~

 

The Autumn Court was inside of a large hollowed out tree as big around as the grey museum. It was dark once he stepped through the archway, but the floor and domed hollowed out ceiling were covered in a softly glowing moss that kept him from going completely blind. There were no chairs surrounding the stone throne that was identical to the one in the Spring Court. It was kept in pristine condition, the moss not even touching it. He jumped when the only member of the Autumn Court stepped out from behind the throne and introduced themselves as Shea. They had long dark hair that covered most of their thin face and pitch black eyes. They slowly walked towards Seth and loomed over him, looking down their hooked nose at the boy. “There are not many humans who would seek an audience with the Autumn Court.”

“I’m not most humans.”

He stared for a moment. “No,” they decided. “You’re not.”

“Do you know why I’m here?”

“Yes. Word travels faster than a human can in the Realm.”

“Then you know what I’m about to ask.”

“And you know that it won’t be an easy feat.”

Seth took a deep breath. “I know.”

“Then if you find a way, I would gladly tell you yes.”

 

~

 

No one could find Seth. Dusk was creeping in on the city and Arago didn’t even have a clue where else to look. Seth was elusive, sure, but this was pushing it. But then again, he thought, none of them knew a whole lot about Seth other than his taste in poetry. Knowing someone’s personality, through aura reading or otherwise, didn’t make up for the lack of knowledge about hobbies and where he might run away to.

Arago was about to run off the roof and continue searching when he felt a sudden gust of wind at his back.

“You know you aura is like a beacon when you’re agitated,” Seth said coolly as he landed on the rooftop behind Arago.

Arago didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking startled. Only turned around and glared. “Where the hell have you been?”

“The Fae Realm.”

“What? How?”

“Got special permission for a one-time trip.”

Arago stared at him for a few moments before he groaned. “Grannie O’Connell,” he realized. “You know you’ve been gone for two days, right? We’ve practically turned London upside down looking for you.”

“Two ­ _days?_ ” he asked. “That wasn’t… I didn’t mean to be gone that long.”

“Well you were!” he shouted. “The Fae Realm doesn’t exactly keep your schedule in mind when you go in!”

“What do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“That’s not the message I’ve been getting,” he smirked.

“You’re causing me a ton of trouble,” Arago said. Seth’s smirk faded and turned into… an actual smile? Almost like the kind of expressions he wore before he dropped the act, when he first met the boy. Arago cringed inwardly at the thought. “Well you _are_.”

“If you didn’t care, it wouldn’t matter,” he said quietly, but not to Arago. Was he still smiling? He couldn’t tell anymore.

“I’m going to tell Oz to call off the search party.”

“You guys had a whole search party out for me?”

“Well, me and Rio and Coco.” He pulled out his phone and started texting. “And Oz, of course.”

“More than I would’ve expected,” Seth shrugged.

“Done.” Arago pocketed his phone. “Well, it’s been fun. But I left behind a ton of paperwork while I was out look for you, and now I’m gonna have to do overtime if I don’t want a doubled workload tomorrow. I hope you’re happy.”

“Happiness is relative.”

Arago narrowed his eyes at him, but didn’t respond. He just moved towards the edge of the roof.

“Wait,” Seth called just before Arago jumped down to street level.

Arago paused, foot hovering over the edge.

“The Spring Court has a message they want me to pass on. You might want to stay away from roof edges for this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I hadn't mentioned before, I'm doing this fic for camp nanowrimo. Which is why I'm churning out chapters so fast and not being concerned with them other than a once-over edit before I post. I'll probably look back and think the pacing is terrible, or that I should have spent more time on something.
> 
> I'm already getting the sense that the scene I'm about to write in the next chapter is something that should have been delayed quite a bit, given more buildup, more chapters leading up to it, but oh well. I'll have to do that in the rewrite.


	6. Chapter 6

“Uh, Rio?” Coco was staring at her phone in confusion. She turned to Rio, who was concentrating on driving. “Arago just sent a text. I think to everyone. But I can’t read it.”

“Lemmie pull over. I’ll see if I can decipher it.” She pulled to a stop on the side of the road and pulled out her own phone.

_Fnd te idt. Stp lkn._

“Does he even look at the keyboard when he types?” Rio nearly went cross eyed staring at it. “Maybe someday he’ll stop texting like a thirteen year old girl with her first phone. Maybe.” She frowned at the screen. “If nothing else, I wish he’d use more than three letters per word. But I’m pretty sure that’s “find”, “stop”, and “looking”. Find the—the idiot? Find the idiot. Stop looking. That doesn’t… oh! _Found_. Found the idiot. He found Seth!”

“He did? Thank goodness!” Coco grinned. “I didn’t know where else we were supposed to search!”

“I guess we should probably go back to the station then. No point in being out.”

“I’m turning on the radio.” Coco flipped to the oldies station and hummed along with the music all the way back.

Since SCI was a relatively new development to the station and had a ridiculously small amount of members in comparison to every other division on the force, their section in the building was… lacking. They made use of the archive room where Joe kept his stash of research on the supernatural. The collection had been recently expanded with actual magical artifacts they picked up because they were too dangerous to be left where the general public could get to them. However, since they had no official office space they had to bring _all_ their work to the archive. It was already a bit crowded with only Rio and Coco working there, but now that Arago had rejoined it was going to get cramped and uncomfortable quickly. They were going to have to talk to the chief about getting a proper space for SCI, Rio thought.

Coco immediately went for the stack of paper next to the door. “Oh, we got another complaint from that one woman who founded the anti-fae organization.” She plucked the hand written letter from the top of the stack and started reading.

“Has she finally caught on that almost everyone in her complex is a supernatural creature in disguise?”

“No. She just wants us to know we’re terrible people. We’re going to hell, we’re crimes against nature… standard stuff.” Coco turned the letter over. “Ah, here’s the point. She demands that we get rid of the “pests” running the farmer’s market.”

“So she insults us, and then demands favors from us?”

“Mhm.”

“I thought the family who organized the farmers market was druids?”

“Yep, they are. Doesn’t seem to matter to her.” Coco handed Rio the paper. “When are we gonna deal with this?”

“Hopefully never. I’ll talk to the chief about sending her a note explaining why we can’t arrest people for practicing magic. I’ve tried, but she won’t acknowledge me as head of SCI because of the pelt.” Rio read down the page and scowled. “ _She’s_ the one who needs a muzzle,” she growled.

Coco gave her a sympathetic look. “Sorry you get stuck dealing with her so often.”

“It’s not your fault. We expected people like this,” Rio sighed. “We just need to make sure that Arago doesn’t cause a scene if she comes down to complain in person again.”

“Hmm. Speaking of, you know Larry’s partner is about to retire, right? And Larry’s pretty competent when it comes to magic and other supernatural stuff. Even if he’s not happy about it. He was real good with it before we made SCI an official division.”

“Yeah. He was helpful. What does that have to do with the crazy lady?”

“No, no, to do with Arago. We were talking about whether we should be a three person team or if we should pull in someone new to be his partner. And you know that smaller teams are better when working cases like we do.”

“And you’re considering Larry? They would kill each other!” She protested. “Besides, Larry doesn’t have any magic. He can’t protect himself when things get rough. And he can’t fight back. At all.”

“So we _give_ him some protection. Charms, wards, teach him a few tricks to keep up his sleeve. More than a few if he wants it. But it’s not like all of our cases are life or death.”

Rio gave her an unimpressed look.

“Okay, fine, SCI has a reputation for being the most dangerous department on the force. Yes. But because of that we’re ridiculously small, and we could use the help. If we keep SCI limited to people who already know how to use magic, we’ll never get any new recruits. Or even transfers. You and I barely knew what we were doing with our powers when we started out, but look at us now.”

Rio still looked skeptical.

“Magic can be taught, so let’s _teach_ ,” Coco insisted.

“Well yeah, you do have a point.”

“I’m sensing a “but” coming up.”

“ _But_. You’re neglecting the fact that Larry and Arago still hate each other.”

“Yeaaah. That might be a small issue. But that was before. Maybe things’ll change between them.”

“Well, we’ll discuss it when Arago gets back.”

Both of their phones went off at the same time. Coco checked hers. “Or not. I can’t quite tell what the first part of this text is, I think it’s “going home”.  But the last part is definitely “see you tomorrow”, can’t confuse that.”

“Why’s he not coming?”

“No reason given.”

“He’s probably just out of it. He was putting in way more effort than any of us to find Seth.”

“Probably,” she agreed.

 

~

 

“Why pass on a message? Usually the Spring Court likes to tell me things face to face.” Arago stepped away from the roof, walked up to Seth and narrowed his eyes at him. “And why were you talking to them in the first place?”

“Personal business.”

“I’m getting tired of that answer.”

“I’m here to pass on a message, not tell you about what I was doing in the Fae Realm.”

“Then pass it on already.”

Seth paused, glancing around before going back to staring at Arago. “Not here.”

“We’re on a roof! No one will listen!”

“I’d feel better if we were somewhere more private. With wards. Like, say, your flat.”

“How do you know I have wards?”

“Because you’ve become a lot more cautious in the time I was gone. And no one works with supernatural creatures, especially so close with the fae, and doesn’t get paranoid and try to protect themselves.”

“Well I can’t say you’re wrong.”

Seth extended a hand. “Then hold on tight. We’re going back to your place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arago having atrocious handwriting as well as texting skills is probably the best useless headcanon.


	7. Chapter 7

The flight to Arago’s flat consisted of a lot of yelling, one accidental elbow to the face, a very intentional knee to the gut, and Seth almost purposefully dropping Arago into the Thames. Twice.

“I _never_ want to do that again,” Arago dropped from Seth’s grip once he was barely twenty feet from the ground, landing with a loud _crunch_ on top of garbage scattered on the graffiti-covered street.

“Flying passenger isn’t to your liking?” Seth alighted on the ground, light as a feather as the winds died down around him.

“I prefer to be the driver, thank you very much.”

“Well, you relinquished your driving privileges along with Orc’s seed.” Seth motioned to the building. “Lead the way.”

“Try not to be too disappointed,” Arago muttered as he walked in.

“Trust me. All my expectations were shattered by the neighborhood.”

There were, in fact, wards on the door to Arago’s flat. Invisible to the human eye, the kind that had no set rules but were made with nonsensical symbols that only made sense to the one who set the wards. Old fae magic that used emotional reactions and connections rather than meanings directly connected to specific symbols.

Arago gestured for Seth to go in first, then slammed the door behind them with more force than necessary. “So what’s this top secret message you’re passing on?”

“What do you know about the situation with the Summer King and Winter Queen?”

“What does that—”

“What do you know?” he repeated.

Arago sighed. He threw his arms up. “Not a whole lot, alright? I don’t stick around for political lessons. No one’s been on the thrones for hundreds of years so there’s no unifying force. The fae are scattered. There’s no alliance between the courts but there’s no wars either, not without proper leaders. That’s the only reason they’ve gone so long without trying to do something about it.”

“And you know that they’re now looking to find people to take up the thrones?”

“Yes. They told me that. Hefeydd’s been up in arms about it.”

“Did they tell you that the collective opinion of nearly the entire Summer Court—Summer, not Spring—is calling for you to be the next Summer King?”

“I… what?” he squeaked. “Me?”

“You.”

Arago stumbled back, his hand scrambling for some kind of ledge that wasn’t available on the wall. “But—but I don’t understand, that can’t be possible. I’m not a king. I’m not even a fae.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time a human has been appointed,” Seth said quietly. “Titania was a nymph of some kind, but Oberon was human. Anyone can rise to power. So long as they actually have it.”

Arago had a blank look of horror on his face. “I need to sit down.” He pushed himself off the wall and nearly tripped on his way to the couch, clasping his hands in front of his mouth as he sat down.

Seth slowly followed him, keeping his footsteps light and his sound levels low, but let his aura shine freely so he wouldn’t be startled. “I thought you would’ve seen this coming. Guess I was wrong.”

“How… _how_ could I have seen this coming?” Arago’s voice shook. “This isn’t something I would ever think of, or want, or… _god_ , why? Why me?”

Seth’s throat tightened at his words. “You killed Patchman. You lead the retaliation against gogmagog. They feel like you’re powerful enough to lead them and keep them safe. Not to mention, holding the spear of the ancient god Lugh? The position is pretty much yours for the taking, regardless of Spring Court approval.”

Arago glared at him.

“Hey, take it up with them. I’m just the messenger.”

“And why are you the messenger?”

“Mm.” Seth looked away and sat down on the opposite end of the couch. “My personal business was finding out if humans were eligible for the thrones.”

“What, _you_ want me on the throne too?” Arago scoffed.

“No. I wasn’t there because of you.”

“Why, then? Why would you go—” his eyes widened in realization. “ _You_ want to. That’s the advice Grannie O’Connell gave you? To become the Summer King?”

“Or Winter Queen,” he shrugged.

“You mean Winter King.”

“No, queen. Winter has always been queen. Summer has always been king.” Seth gave Arago a sideways glance. “Though, the Summer Court already seems to have chosen their king.”

“No,” he mumbled into his hands. “No. This isn’t real. This can’t be happening. I can’t be king. I’m not a king. I can’t lead people, I don’t know how.”

“They probably trust you’ll be able to learn. That’s what you get for being so deeply involved with the Summer court.” Seth finally looked Arago dead in the eye. “You should know how they think by now. You should have known they’d eventually ask you for something that you weren’t prepared to do.”

“Stop saying that,” he growled.

“What?”

“That I should have seen this coming.” He rubbed his face and let his head rest in his hands. “No one in their right mind would have expected _this_ to come out of a few simple favors. There’s no way.”

Seth almost commented on how the favors he did were hardly simple. But his aura made him pause. Anger and confusion rolled around on the top layer of his emotional colors but underneath the confusion, one permeated stronger than all the others: fear. A sickly yellow that nearly drowned out all the other colors. More fear than he had ever seen on Arago before. “I’m sorry. I was the messenger because they thought it would be better if you were with a … friend. When you got the news.”

Arago let out a half choked laugh and lifted his head, giving Seth a small smile. “Friend? Are we on friend terms now?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who wasted two years looking for me.”

“My time was not _wasted_ on you,” he answered immediately. “Don’t ever tell me that I wasted my time trying to get you back.”

Seth stared at Arago for a good minute before he realized what he was doing and cleared his throat. “Friends, then,” he just barely managed to say. “Haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

“Us being friends doesn’t change the fact that you’re an ass.”

“Same to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we finally get to the point of this entire fic. Woo.
> 
> In my original outline, this conversation was supposed to happen in chapter three. So as you can see I have no idea what I'm doing.


End file.
